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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25938613">Eenie meenie miny mo</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlooBlu/pseuds/BlooBlu'>BlooBlu</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bedtime Stories, Brief mentions of gore, Children, Father-Son Relationship, Remus is heavily implied to be there but not mentiomed by name, Stuffed Toys, Yes the beginnig is supposed to be vaguely ominous/creepy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:02:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>873</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25938613</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlooBlu/pseuds/BlooBlu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A short drabble of how I imagined the sides operated at one point or another. Mostly a domestic scene between not-quite-father-and-son Deceit and Anxiety, and some of Deceit's thoughts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Deceit | Janus Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Eenie meenie miny mo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"With me, Anxiety."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mhm!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>"Eenie, meanie, miny, mo. Catch a tiger by it's toe. If it hollers, let it go. My momma said to pick the very best one, and you</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Are </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>It."</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He would always lead the silly little chant, but Anxiety got to do the pointing. Perhaps it was a childish way to do things, but the young side </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>essentially a child, after all. In the world outside, were they to be… summoned, or appear of their own volition, their forms would shift to fit the mold of their host - their outfits would remain the same, but each one would have the same, identical face. In the mindscape, however, they are not so limited. They look as they feel, and as most sides didn't all come to be at the same time, they all look to be of varying ages. Morality didn't come to act as a "father figure" out of nowhere...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So down the line they went, Anxiety pointing at one after the other, in no particular order but he looked focused and determined  nonetheless. At the end of their count, his little finger had landed on the third last one in line, finally. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, confident in his (almost completely random) choice, Anxiety looked to him for confirmation. Deceit smiled encouragingly, and motioned for him to grab it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were many plushies on display, from lizards to lions, and today it seemed they would be going with a rather large butterfly. He's not entirely sure which kind of butterfly, exactly, and perhaps it wasn't modeled after a real breed at all - it was simply a few similar shades of pink and yellow, outlined and segmented by thin black lines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anxiety looked very pleased regardless of all these things, holding it close to his chest and muttering "pretty bug, big pretty bug" over and over. Deceit hid a rather embarrassing expression behind his hat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Alright, it’s time for bed now, spiderling." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay Dee!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He might not have access to the same resources as Creativity and Creativity, or as much stubbornness as Logic to summon anything he wants whenever, but it's more than worth it to expend the energy to do this for (his brother? Charge? What does it matter?) Anxiety once a week. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The poor little thing won't last more than half the week on it's own, but perhaps with proper care it could be sustained long enough until the next time they could do this. Their rooms are all so small, he might even be able to work out getting some new decorations. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>ask creativity, but knowing him, little Anxiety would end up with intestines and rabbit skulls hanging everywhere like discount streamers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, he'd find a way to work it out himself. Permanent items would be infinitely more difficult than temporary ones, and they might wilt even still - but he could try. Of course, he wouldn't normally try to exceed his limits like this, but… Thomas has been having quite a few problems with controlling his anxiety lately. Not that this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>Anxiety's fault, because he could only control his panic attacks as much as Deceit could control his natural inclination towards lying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Creativity and Creativity had had an absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>field day </span>
  </em>
  <span>with that when they found out, asking him what color the sky was, how many fingers they were holding up, and it had been… an interesting day, that one.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anxiety ran off, out of Deceit's room and down the hall towards his own. He knew that the little side wouldn't be asleep before he arrived to read him a story, but one could hope, right? He could already feel the drain from summoning, and how embarrassing that was - to be arguably one of the weakest sides, at least as far as the things he could make. Physical weakness do not account for intellectual strengths, just like most of the world. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steadily mounting exhaustion aside, Deceit finally managed to shake what remaining non-disney related thoughts were left in his head, and left his room to see which story Anxiety wanted to hear tonight. Some nights, he'd request older versions of current fairytales - the darker, less-child friendly ones where witches get eaten and love-sick mermaids turn to sea foam. Hopefully tonight was not one of those nights, because no matter how "brave" Anxiety was feeling before those stories, he'd always wake up screaming in the middle of the night after one of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rather conveniently, it seems that little Anxiety was ready long before Deceit stepped through the door, book in hand and plushie firmly under one arm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hunchback, Dee! Hunchback!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ah, the hunchback of notre-dame?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mhm. Not the big book, this time. Disney one, please!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Movies are all well and fun, but over the past few years, he and Anxiety have discovered that it can be much more fun to recount Disney stories together as if they were a short children's book. This allowed them to criticize the foolish characters without taking attention away from the movie and missing parts. As Creativity so eloquently put it, it was like having a "Disney-themed-shit-talking-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>party." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Very well, then. Will you sing with me?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>"Morning in Paris, the city awakes, </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>To the bells of Notre Dame…" </b>
</p>
  </div></div>
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